A Prison of the Mind
by egypt-gypsie
Summary: Death changes a person. Sometimes they become so far gone that they are barely recognizable. When Elizabeth agreed to save Jack from the hell she sent him to, she wasn't prepared to meet the Jack Sparrow that his Hell had created. She was even less prepared to accept the person she had become. Sparrabeth. Set After DMC. Re-write of AWE.
1. No Light, No Life

In the dark corners of a person's mind lies twisted forgotten fragments; the guilt over every lie they have ever told, the shame over what they have turned into, the hatred of the people that made them that way, the fear of having a corrupted soul, and the glee of having finally gone too insane to care. The fire rages inside their mind, burning and piercing, until it reaches their heart. Flame then turns to ice, ceasing the existence of emotion, rendering them into a shell, as hollow as every breath that passes their lips. It is at this point that they are ready to accept death as an old friend, willing it to envelop them with the last ounce of strength left.

Little do they know that a lifetime of misery awaits them when they make the final journey into what is supposed to be peace-filled bliss. Especially when that journey takes place in the mouth of a kraken, and the cause for being there is a betrayal from the person whom you trusted the most.

Every inch of her skin haunted his mind, every word she ever spoke echoed through the chasm that his mind had become, and the burning hatred for her filled his heart with a pain like no other, even though it no longer beat here.

"I'm not sorry."

A rock left his hand, and flew toward the wall, hitting it with a sharp crack. Leaning against the stone wall, wheezing from exhaustion, he tilted his head back, and closed his eyes.

"It's after you, not the ship. Not us. It's the only way, don't you see?"

The inky darkness behind his eyelids matched the thick air around him. In every direction he looked was a never ending passageway. He was almost sure that he had stumbled down every one countless times, but they all looked the same. Everything looked the same. Light did not exist here. Hope did not exist here. _Life_ was never going to exist here.

This was his hell, the one that she had sent him to. He could live with his life being taken away. Death was not something he had been afraid of in all of the times that he had been so close to it, but this, this was torture.

She had taken it away twice. Once when she chained him to the mast, and now, as he sat on the stone floor, trapped in the endless maze of tunnels.

He had come back to stay with his ship. He had chosen to die for them, for her. He had wanted to do the right thing. Then she took that choice away from him in one fell swoop, and the unspoken words were so loud that she might as well have shouted them. She thought so little of him that she felt she had to force him into sacrifice, instead of trusting him to do it himself. She had taken away the one thing that he had always valued most, even over life itself. His freedom was gone, and he swore that he would make her hurt equally, if he ever saw the light of day again.

Scoffing, he picked at the trinkets in his hair. Time didn't matter anymore. It could have been years since he had been in this place, and he wouldn't know the difference. He placed his other hand over his heart, feigning the shock he once felt the first couple of times. There was no longer a heartbeat. Nothing. No pulse in his veins, no breath in his lungs. No life in him at all. And he was never getting out of here.

He lifted himself up off the floor, swearing that he could hear his bones grinding together. Right about now, he would normally feel his head ache for the sweet taste of rum, but he hadn't felt a craving for food nor drink in a long time. Perhaps this is what his mutinous first mate had felt when he had taken that last piece of Aztec gold. Even now, he didn't feel sorry for that worthless excuse for a man. He would still wish this and a thousand times worse for him.

"I'm proud of you, Jack."

Gritting his teeth, he took a couple steps forward, without aim or direction. His movement stopped when he heard a noise that was not coming from him. Cautiously turning around, he narrowed his eyes as the noise became more clear.

A dull thump, over and over again. Inching forward, a passage to the right suddenly brightened, and he had to shield his eyes from it lest he have them burned out. The sound became louder as he got closer. The light started to flicker.

Fire?

Rounding the corner, he blanched at the sight before him.

"You're not real." The figure that was rhythmically slamming a hammer down looked up at him without slowing his movements.

Jack turned around to avoid having to look at the person currently behind him. Was his mind so addled now that he was hallucinating?

The noise stopped. "Perhaps not, Jack, but that doesn't mean that I am not here."

Jack squeezed his eyes shut in frustration, slowly turning around again, hoping that facing him would make the man disappear. When this did not pass, he clenched his fists, and ground out the man's name.

"Turner."

William wore a look of disappointment on his face. "You stole her from me, Jack. You knew that she was mine, yet you still played with her like she was a conquest, and she followed you. You gave her the temptation, and she took it. Don't you feel guilty? Why else would she hide her true reason for kissing you on the mast other than her distrust in me? You poisoned her mind against me, and now she won't even look at me."

Glaring at him, Jack tried to decide if he wanted to expend the effort to respond to the twit or not.

"Mr. Turner, need I remind you that I am a pirate, and that when I see something I want, I make an effort to take it, regardless of who laid claim to it before myself?"

That was a lie and he knew it. He hadn't seen that wretched girl as a conquest. He had respected her, had seen her as his equal, wanted to have her by his side until the end of his days. Peas in a pod, as he once told her. Now? She was lower than the grime underneath his boot.

"You will never deserve her, Jack. Despite what she did to you, she will always have more honor and worth than you ever did. She was only doing what she thought was right, which is something you still have yet to do."

He gave the man a look that he hoped would tear the hallucination in two.

"I no longer have any desire to be equal to her or you. You can have her, Turner. The less she is around me, the more chance she has at living."

The blacksmith's expression turned from disappointment to confusion, making him look pathetic.

"What reason do you have to hate her, Jack? She saved me, and the entire crew. You have cheated death far too often, and she saw that it was finally your time to meet your maker. If anyone deserved death, it was you."

Jack's face darkened, and he backed away, shaking his head. "Why am I even talking to you? You're not real."

He turned around once again so that the maddening whelp was staring at his back. Then, the orange flickering on the stone wall vanished, leaving it as dark as death's final moments. He knew without looking that the hallucination was gone.

"She killed me", he said aloud. His voice sounded like he hadn't spoke in eons, scratchy and hoarse. He had every right to hate the witch.

But some small part of him wanted just as much to slant his mouth over hers and run his fingers against her silken skin until she screamed his name. Drive into her until she couldn't remember her own name.

Sinking back down to the ground, he closed his eyes and drifted off into a daze, uncaring about anything.

Small whimpering noises brought him back to conscious thought, and when he opened his eyes, his jaw fell open.

The black wooden walls loomed around him, swaying softly to the time of the waves, and the candle on the desk flickered back and forth. His bed, with black satin sheets and beautifully carved wooden posts, stood before him.

He was standing in his cabin. Or at least that is what his mind had chosen to conjure up for him this time, and that wasn't all.

Elizabeth Swann was splayed out on his sheets, naked as the day she was born, the soft candlelight glowing on her sunkissed skin. Her legs were spread, and her fingers were swirling delicately around her soft folds, causing intoxicating noises to leave her parted lips. Sweet Jesus. Her eyes were darkened to a near chocolate color, and they were staring directly into his.

"This is what you can never have Jack, no matter how badly you want it. You will never be good enough for me."

His head spun, the floorboards beneath him threatening to swallow him whole. Seeing Turner was one thing, but this, this was too much. Blood rushed past his ears, and his heart, if it worked, would be thumping madly.

Her back arched, and her fingers rubbed faster. He could feel the air in the room clench with her muscles as her orgasm crashed over her. A flush covered her skin, and her chest heaved.

His mind warred between bringing her to another blissful release, and sending her to her well-deserved death.

The center of the bed sunk in as she sat up and swung her legs around so that her delicate feet were touching the floor.

"You wretch", he ground out, glaring at her. She simply smiled.

"Wasn't it you that called me a pirate? You deserved what you got Jack. You know it and I know it. Perhaps if you were less of a coward I wouldn't have deemed it necessary. If you would have stayed with your ship by choice, I could have kissed you goodbye in thanks instead of in contempt. But I know you, and I knew that you would rather risk all of our lives, including mine, just to save your worthless hide. I was doing all of us a favor, as much as Gibbs denies it, by removing you from any future equations."

He seethed.

"If there is anything I am sure of, Jack, is that if given the choice to go back and re-evaluate my actions, I would kill you again without a second's hesitation."

He was going to kill her. The second he laid eyes on her, the real her, she was going to die.

"It doesn't matter anymore, Miss Swann, because I am here, with nigh a heart nor breath, and I am never leaving. You aren't real, just like your ex-fiance wasn't real."

She stepped forward until she was inches away from him, her hot breath ghosting across his face.

The room around him changed slowly, until he could feel the cool breeze from the ocean, and the hard wood on his back. He was against the mast again, and the shackle was around his wrist.

And the charming murderess was standing before him, this time wearing a triumphant expression.

"Whether I am real or not makes no difference, because my words are true, Jack."

He leaned his head back against the mast.

"You ran away in your longboat because you were too afraid to accept your fate. You sent my Will to pay your debt for you because you were afraid to finally realize that it was only going to end if you died."

"I came back, Ms. Swann." Anger coursed through him, and if the shackle wasn't around his wrist, hallucination or not, he would strangle her.

She leaned closer to his lips.

"I don't care."

He regarded her for a moment. Her eyes held a different quality than the real Elizabeth. These eyes were dark, vicious.

"I came back for you, luv. I came back because I couldn't stand leaving you there. Bugger everything else. But now? I would gladly be the one to pull the trigger when your time comes."

She just kept smiling.


	2. The Knife That Glitters

Chapter 2 - The Knife That Glitters

Candlelight danced in her eyes, giving them the only life that they had possessed since the last piece of her soul had been ripped away, by her own doing. She had lost her father to Beckett. James had been killed right in front of her eyes, and Will refused to acknowledge her presence.

He must have seen. The was the only thing that could explain his attitude towards her.

Perhaps a person could wither away from overwhelming guilt, just as she might do in the very bed she was sitting on. She had betrayed two men that she loved, and one of them was never coming back. She no longer felt the need to remain on this earth, and she could not bring herself to understand why she was still among the living.

Dark thoughts had clouded inside her head since that day, always reminding her of how unforgivable her act was, how she could never turn back time and undo what she did, and how if by some miracle he were to return, he would never forgive her for her act of betrayal.

His black eyes would glitter with hate every time he had to look at her. His voice would hold no emotion every time he spoke to her, should he have the misfortune to.

She would almost wish that he would kill her.

_"Pirate."_

The last word he said to her was burned into her mind. The accusatory tone of his voice had held a multitude of other things in its layers. Admiration, hurt, and rage.

She had thought she was doing the right thing. It was after him, not the crew, and he did need to go down with his ship to save them. Anyone would have done the same.

So why did she feel like the Devil himself for doing it?

_"You love him, don't you?"_

She looked up into the corner of the room, and set her face in a stony expression.

"Even if I did, it doesn't matter now."

Tia Dalma smiled a strange smile, making Elizabeth's eyes narrow.

"What do you know about love?"

Tia's face darkened, a storm forming in her eyes. "I know more den you think, girl. I know that you never truly loved William. You are the same as me, untamable. Only Jack Sparrow could match you."

Elizabeth sucked in a breath, and pursed her lips. "I am supposed to love Will. He is the right choice, the proper choice. I am supposed to marry him so we can have a family together. Why did I have to go and ruin it all?"

Tia gazed into Elizabeth's eyes. "Something tells me that you don't feel as guilty about that as you do about betraying Jack."

Elizabeth looked up sharply. "How-you weren't there! You can't know about what I did."

Tia stepped forward and knelt in front of Elizabeth. "Listen to me, child. A woman's right to happiness is something that she should put above all else. Jack Sparrow makes you happy. You are doing nothing wrong by loving him. Sending the one you love to his death is the true darkness on your soul."

Raising her eyes to meet Tia's, she asked a question that she had been asking herself since climbing into the longboat.

"Do you think he will ever forgive me?"

A sad look came over Tia's face. "Jack's soul has been through a lot of darkness itself both by his doing and the doing of others. There are sides of Jack that very few people have seen. I do not know which side of him you will encounter should you see him again."

She paused, and seemed to consider her words. "Being in hell can change even the best of men into something the Devil himself would fear. I am afraid that your betrayal may have been the final wound that destroyed his humanity."

At her words, Elizabeth's blood turned to ice, and every last drop of color drained out of her face. Then she dared to ask a question that she wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer to.

"Is there any way to bring him back?"

Tia sighed, and stood up. "Yes, but few would ever take the quest upon themselves, even to save the ones they love most. You see, to make the Locker give up that which it has took, you need to offer a replacement. Davy Jones took part of Jack's soul."

The two women stared at each other for moment.

Finally, Elizabeth spoke.

"What is the price, the replacement?"

Tia's face grew grim.

"Part of _your_ soul."

Elizabeth cast her eyes downward. "If I chose to go through with this, will Jack be himself when I bring him back, or will he be..."

Her words trailed off. The one time she had seen Jack drop his guard, his mask, was when he killed Barbossa on Isla De Muerta. His eyes had held a deadly serious calm in them, and she feared to see them directed at her.

"It's hard to say when part of a soul is taken. Witty Jack may be the same person he was just before you shackled him to the mast, or he might be the person Hell turned him into. That is for you to find out. In order for this quest to work, for you to be allowed access into the Locker, you need to be willing to accept what it is that you find. You cannot fear it, and you cannot run away from it."

Would she be willing to bring Jack back even if a different person lived behind his charcoal eyes?

"How do I get there? The Locker."

Tia procured a knife from somewhere in her dress. The blade glittered in the candlelight, almost taunting her.

"For you, you must give into the guilt that you are feeling. To get to the Locker, you must die by your own hand. Davy Jones only accepts damaged souls, girl."

Elizabeth stared at the knife. "Is my soul not damaged enough already?"

Tia smiled. "There are only a couple of thing that truly damage a person's soul. Being betrayed by the one you love most, and taking your own life."

"How do you know that the Locker is where I will go?"

A truly satisfied look swept over Tia's face. "You sent him to his death, Elizabeth. You put a black mark on his soul, and you will forever be connected to it. You will go wherever Jack is when you die, because fate has a way of reuniting the victim with their murderer. It is the only way."

Tears would have formed in Elizabeth's eyes if she had any left. "Is there anything else?"

Tia walked to the door, and then turned to face her.

"You must confess what you have done to all of them. Only then can the true measure of your guilt fill you. Only then will you be truly ready to die."

With those words, she left the room.

Elizabeth took her head in her hands. She had to take her own life. She never thought that she would even be in the realm of considering that. At one time, taking the life of another would have been appalling to her as well.

How could she tell them? How could she look into their faces and tell them that it was she who had betrayed Jack, she who had shackled him to the mast of his own ship, and _she_ who had taken away his freedom of choice?

Taking a deep shuddering breath, she made her decision.


	3. Denial of the Soul

Here is the third chapter. I hope that everyone is enjoying the story so far. =] Please take a minute and drop a review towards me! =]

Water ran in inky rivulets down the dark stone wall, forming a puddle where Jack had passed out. Opening his eyes carefully, just enough to see the area immediately in front of him, he searched for honey-colored hair and devilish eyes.

She was gone. He was back in his prison, alone. The world threatened to disappear again as he sat up, pain rushing through his head.

Getting to his feet, he stared down the passage, and raised his eyebrows. The walls were now lined with jail cells.

Empty, he realized, all of them. Much like himself at that moment.

So long ago it seemed that he was stuck in the Port Royal jail, attempting to bribe a dog into handing over the cell keys. Turner had rescued him, then insisted on destroying every single one of his plans until he fell over the stone wall into the ocean, back to his beloved Pearl.

The bittersweet reunion with his ship after Norrington had so graciously given him a head start was short lived.

William Turner Sr. had kindly come aboard to remind him of his impending debt with Jones, and he almost had a serious reconsideration of the rule to not shoot the messenger.

He briefly wondered if he would rather be a prisoner on the Dutchman, instead of wandering the endless corridors and hallways that he was trapped in now.

As least he would have the ocean.

He stopped and cautiously turned around when he heard a soft cry behind him. Peering into the darkness, he listened to a delicate female voice echo against the stone wall. The voice spoke his name, but was not speaking to him.

"Jack. I'm sorry, I-...I couldn't forgive myself for what I did. You would never forgive me. I had nothing to live for."

Blood rushed past his ears. Stepping forward, he came to a stop in front of one of the cells, and at the sight in front of him, froze, reaching out for something to steady himself, and finding nothing.

A small naked woman sat with her knees to her chest, stringy blonde hair hanging in front of her face. Her skin was wet and pale as death. Slowly, her head turned, and empty eyes stared into his empty soul.

"Elizabeth?" His voice came out as a low whisper, as if his throat had attempted to strangle the words before they could be uttered.

Air seemed to be leaving the room faster than he could breathe it. His chest tightened, and for one gleeful moment, he hoped that it was the hand of death bringing him peace.

"Look."

Her head inclined in the direction of her wrists. When her eyes made contact, even she seemed to be shocked by the sight; a red trickle slithering out of her wrists to coil into a puddle on the black stone floor.

Before, the world had swayed before him. Now, it was unmoving, cold, and harsh.

"Jack. I'm sorry. I couldn't forgive myself for what I did. You would never forgive me. I had nothing to live for."

A piercing pain radiated through his head, and his hand flew up to press against his bandana.

He felt sick.

Turning away, he placed his hand against the wall, shaking his head in an attempt to stop conscious thought.

Moments passed, silence grew thicker, until he finally opened his mouth to speak.

"I don't believe you."

Hearing a sharp intake of breath behind him, he turned around again, facing her. "I am sure that you hoped that I would be the Jack Sparrow that you knew before you killed me. That person danced around a fire with you. That person would have happily been stranded on an island with you until the hunger did us both in. That person dove into the water to save you, knowing that it might mean his death by a noose. That person, Miss Swann, is dead. The pieces of him are floating in the ocean, along with his ship."

Her eyes were pleading, and she opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

Anger spread through him like a slow growing fire.

"You have nothing to say to me. You told me that you were not sorry. You chewed me up and tossed me aside at the first sign that I may have been more than you could handle. You handcuffed me to my ship and left me to die. You are better off dead."

Laughter began tumbling from her lips, shocking him.

"Don't you understand Jack? Everything you see here is something that your mind creates. It comes from within you. Can you not guess what I am?"

She stood up and stepped over to the bars, putting her face in between them, and wrapping her fingers around the cold steel.

He stared past her. "What. What are you?"

A small smile ghosted across her face.

"I am that small fraction of you that is now locked away. That fraction of yourself that is shrouded and choked by the hurt and anger that has filled the empty spaces that your heart and soul once occupied. When you saw me sitting on the ground dying, you stayed. While the only thing that passed your lips was hatred, you did not turn away. You may believe it to be true, but you are not all lost. That part of you, floating somewhere in the oblivion of your mind, belongs to her, even still. Start searching for it before you destroy yourself to the point of no return."

She paused, giving him a sad look, before gesturing to the puddle of blood behind her. "Your broken soul is trying to show you the consquences that will come should you choose to follow the path of revenge. Jack Sparrow, you may not care now, you may want her dead a thousand times over and damned to all nine circles of hell, but when you are walking through the brig late at night in search of a drop of rum to quiet your mind, and you find her with a knife to her wrists, you will wish in every language you know that you could have found it within you to forgive her."

The cells disappeared along with her, and the walls returned. He stood, unmoving, his mind wavering between rage and defeat, until the war gave out to exhaustion, along with his body.


	4. Confession of the Heart

The cold vice-like grip of dread was strangling her from the inside.

As she sat on the wooden chair, she felt like she was wavering in the calm before she was to be sentenced to death before a jury of the people she was supposed to love and respect; not betray.

All of the colors in the room blended together, leaving her with nothing to focus on but her limbs anxiously twitching, and her heart making a valiant attempt to escape from her chest.

When Tia Dalma ghosted across the room, Elizabeth had to remind herself to start breathing, not for the first time that night, and certainly not the last.

Tia stopped at her desk, and turned around, staring straight into her eyes, almost as if challenging her to run from her fate. Elizabeth stared back, and inclined her head only slightly towards the other woman. A small knowing smile creased her lips, holding a thousand different words. Tia turned back towards her desk, and picked up a glass bottle and a knife. The sound that emanated from the two clanging together was deafening to Elizabeth, despite the even more cacophonous sound of blood rushing past her ear drums.

Doors opened and shut. Her chest tightened, and she had to force breath through her mouth, because it was threatening to vanish from her lungs.

"Gather 'round."

Tia sliced her arm through the air, motioning to the remnants of the Black Pearl's crew, beckoning them to congregate around the pale shaking human embodiment of raw fear.

Once they all formed a half-hearted circle, Tia spoke.

"Elizabeth and I discussed a...possible way to retrieve the good Captain of the Black Pearl. A grand quest, as it were. One that a few of you will benefit from, I think, more than others."

Her words were aimed at William Turner, who was currently avoiding Elizabeth like the plague. His head jerked to look in the swamp witches' direction, eyes narrowed.

"My involvment in this possible quest is irrelevant. What is relevant is the fact that you declined to share this information with all of us at once. Why did Elizabeth need to hear it first? Furthermore, why do either of you assume that we actually want Jack Sparrow back from the dead?"

Elizabeth winced at the way her name passed through his lips. It was as if he was speaking of a fatal disease, instead of the woman he loved.

Tia sidled up to will, and positioned herself inches from his face. "William, you believe that with the Pearl, you can help your father escape his fate of eternity with the sea devil, Davy Jones himself. Do not underestimate how well I know any of you." She rotated back around slowly, allowing her words to sink into Will's brain.

"However, William's inquiry is fair. Yes, I did share this idea with Elizabeth first, and you all want to know why."

Four pairs of eyes stared back at her, three of them only holding curiosity, and one holding the most pure display of dread that had ever mingled with the consciousness of a human.

Tia raised her hand to touch one of the many ornaments hanging from the ceiling of the hut.

"The quest to raise a human soul from the Locker is a complicated one. It can only be done when the soul in question was sent there before their time, by a betrayal that was not supposed to happen."

She paused, waiting to make sure all of them were understanding.

"The price of returning life to a soul is to offer a replacement."

Elizabeth closed her eyes. She felt bile rising in her throat, and her skin broke out in a sweat.

She saw a hand gesturing to her in the haze that her vision had become, and words were spoken that she vaguely heard.

"If she would be so kind, I believe Elizabeth can tell you the rest."

When she raised her eyelids, they felt like they had a hundred pounds of lead resting on them.

Almost as if in a trance, her eyes drifted over to the man that had been a father figure in her young life. A man that had known two different paths in his own lifetime. A naval officer, and a pirate. Genuine worry was etched into his face. Joshamee Gibbs may be the only true friend Jack had.

Next to him were Pintel and Ragetti, two pirates that had been accessories to her captivity on the Black Pearl with Captain Barbossa. Now she had fought along side them in a battle to a near death.

Finally, there was the boy that she had rescued from a shipwreck when she was a little girl. The boy that had become her secret love, the man that she was never going to be able to marry because of their differences in social status. Now, he wouldn't even look at her.

Swallowing thickly, Elizabeth spoke.

"Captain Sparrow was betrayed. He did not choose to go down with his ship willingly, the choice was made for him. That is why his soul is able to be rescued."

Her breath hitched, and she hoped that further explanation wouldn't be necessary. She wasn't sure if she could make it through anymore.

"Why did Tia Dalma share this information with you first Elizabeth? Why?"

Will's words were slow and deliberate.

She shook her head in pointless denial of what she was about to share.

"When I climbed into the longboat, and told all of you that he had elected to stay behind, I lied. That much you already know. But there is another part of the truth that I have neglected to share with you."

She could feel their gazes burning into her skin, and she could hear the cogs in their brain turning.

"Will saw me kiss Jack, but it was not out of passion or grief. It was an impulse of trickery from someone who realized what had to be done in the spur of the moment. I shackled him to the mast of his own ship, forcing him to stay behind while all of our lives were saved."

Tears were now streaming freely down her cheeks. She raised her eyes to stare directly into Will's.

"I sent Jack to his death. I killed him, and that is why Tia spoke to me about this prior to any of you. I am the only one who can bring him back."  
> <p>


	5. Et Mali Tenebrae

** Heldin: Thank you for the review! The idea for Elizabeth's more open attitude came from myself actually. I suffer from anxiety and sometimes I tend to just tell people things when I can no longer contain them inside my head. So I figured that her lack of romantic feelings for Will was something that had been bothering her for awhile, so when she saw an opportunity to get that weight off her chest in some way, she took it.**

**Also, for those wondering about what the title means:**

**Et Mali Tenebrae = Darkness and Evil (In Latin.) =]**

He no longer had any desire to open his eyes. The black kohl had since smeared away from the countless times that he had run his hands over his face, trying to erase his memories, this place, his life. It was now replaced by the weight of the knowledge that nothing was going to make this hell cease to exist, and he was going to be trapped, floating in oblivion forever, haunted by scenes from his mind's sick play that recounted every memory in his mind that he wanted to forget.

His consciousness fading in and out. He vaguely felt long fingers of cold crawl over his arm, then his shoulder, and finally to his face. Somewhere in the chasm of his mind, he registered that he wasn't supposed to feel cold. He couldn't feel anything anymore.

"Jack Sparrow."

Every hair on his body stood up, and he shivered. Voices belonged to bodies.

There was someone here with him.

Coaxing his legs into working, he slowly stood up. His taunting hallucinations, and the harsh pierce of reality were starting to overlap. He wondered if he was finally going insane.

"Jack?"

The voice was quiet, but the way the deep timbre held no kind of uncertainty or fear or anything but peace spoke of a very old soul.

Peering into the darkness, trying to locate the voice's possessor, he suddenly heard it chiding itself.

"Oh, excuse me. It may help if there was light, as much as I loathe to have it around."

His eyes took a moment to adjust to the change in the room before him. Torches now lined what appeared to be a circular room with a round table.

Standing on the opposite side of the table from him was a figure hidden behind a black hooded cloak.

The time, if it existed here, ticked by at a slow creep, as Jack waited. Finally, he decided to speak first.

"What's wrong with having light around?" Jack eyed the figure warily, making sure it knew that if it was here to manipulate him, it was a lost cause.

Its head tilted. "Brings back bad memories."

Bad memories were the only thing Jack had at this point.

The chair the figure was standing next to scraped across the stone floor as the figure pulled it out to sit, motioning for him to do the same.

Stepping forward, Jack watched his shadow bounce and sway across the stone walls. When he reached the chair, he did not sit down right away.

"Are you another hallucination?"

"Oh no, Captain Sparrow, far from it."

Dark kohl-colored eyes watched hidden ones.

"Then who exactly are you?"

A ghostly pale hand extended towards Jack's chair.

"Sit, please."

Finding no reason to challenge it for now, he sat.

"I am going to venture a guess and say that you are not considering the idea of removing your hood. I prefer to see the people I talk to, if you are a person."

The figure seemed to think for a moment.

"If that is what you wish, than I shall comply Captain Sparrow."

Until then, the firelight had seemed to lick at what was hidden underneath the black shadow-like fabric of the cloak. Now, as every inch of black fabric was pulled back, the Captain sat there, shocked.

At the collar of the robe, a blue and white coat peeked out, laying against skin that was not yet kissed by the Caribbean sun. Raven black hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. Chocolate brown eyes peered out at him, watching his reaction.

"I am going to assume that the identity of Lieutenant Sparrow has not been completely washed away by the salty waves of the Caribbean."

It was his voice, without the various accents he had picked up from traveling. It had such a strong aristocratic lilt to it that it sickened him. Even though his entire stint in the Royal Navy had been an attempt to disguise himself as a good man, he still loathed any reminder of it.

Jack sat back in his chair.

"It was never an identity to begin with. It was the first and last attempt I made at running from my fate as a pirate."

Chuckling, the navy officer reached into his coat and pulled out a small metal flask.

"Whisky?"

Glaring at his younger self, he scoffed.

"I never did like that shit. Always preferred rum."

The lieutenant shrugged. "But you did drink it a lot didn't you?"

He gulped the liquid down, which caused Jack to raise an eyebrow, suspicion clouding his face.

"Yes, but I always drank it slowly. That was the idea that the English harbored. You had to drink it slowly to savour the taste, and we both know how hard I tried to blend in."

The youunger man had slight trepidation covering his face now.

"You aren't actually me, are you?"

The other Jack sighed, and pulled the hood back over his face, again shrouding himself in darkness, voice changing back to the ancient drawl.

"No."

Jack narrowed his eyes. "Who are you and what do you want from me?"

He could feel him smirking without seeing it.

"I have always had a special interest in you Jack. You have exhibited traits ever since you were born that truly piqued my curiosity. Your soul is filled with darkness, but not by evil. You have pure darkness within you, but you are not an evil being."

Letting out a slow breath, Jack chose his next words carefully.

"What point are you trying to make here?"

More whiskey was drained from the flask.

"I am here to help you see that you can embrace that darkness, not run from it. Most mortals obtain darkness in their soul because of an act of evil. Perhaps they took a life or forced a woman or man into something unwanted. For example, I collected a soul fairly recently that was being sent to me because he allowed a woman and her child to die. He failed to intervene."

A subtle mask of confusion flashed across Jack's face.

"That doesn't mean that it was his fault."

The hood jerked as the wraith-like entity turned his head slightly and leaned forward.

"He ordered the attack on them to begin with. He told his men to kill anyone and everyone they found. He told them to raid every house and every shop, and to cut down every living person in their path, be it man, woman, or child."

Jack drummed his fingers on the table.

"You specifically took him for killing _that _woman and child. Why were they special?"

"Because, Captain Sparrow, that woman was his fiance, and the child was his own."

The silence in the air was thick enough to choke a man to death should he allow it.

"Who was this man?"

Pale fingers snaked out from under the robe to glide over the dark wood of the desk.

"It's funny you ask that Jack. You see, you are the one that ended his pitiful life. You sent his black soul down to me. When you put a bullet through his heart, it was for vengeance, and you also inadvertantly saved the woman who would go on to put a shackle around your wrist, dooming you to death and this place. Fate has an odd way of working doesn't it?

Anger flooded Jack's senses.

"Hector."

The name escaped his lips as though he was spitting out poison.

The other man leaned back in satisfaction.

"People like you have a natural way of...removing problems like him. He misused darkness for evil. Darkness, much like myself, were created to balance the world, not to cause chaos.

Jack closed his eyes wearily.

"Why are you here, specifically?"

The nameless man's head twitched.

"You have a problem that you have been wrestling with. You were murdered by Elizabeth Swann, and you do not know which path you should take when dealing with her."

Allowing his eyes to sweep around the room, Jack smiled sadly.

"You talk as though you are certain that I am going to leave this hell eventually."

The man grunted with something akin to excitement.

"Trust me, Captain, this is not hell. You may think it is because being trapped without freedom is your own personal hell, but hell itself is much, much worse. You will escape these endless corridors. In fact, your lovely murderess is coming to rescue you."

A mix of emotions paraded their way through Jack faster than he could identify them. He settled on confusion.

"Why?"

A small laugh escaped the man's mouth.

"Well, she feels guilty of course. She is desperate for relief from that crushing weight. She won't find it, but it will be a valiant attempt none the less."

He didn't give Jack time to respond.

"She won't find it because bringing you back won't fix her soul. When she killed you, she gave you the pathetic excuse of needing to save the rest of the crew. If she really was doing it selflessly, she would have offered to go down with you. No, she was acting with no one other than herself in mind. Simultaneously sacrificing the man she loved to save her own skin, breaking the heart of the man she didn't, and betraying the entire crew by murdering their Captain is quite impressive."

The man watched Jack's reaction carefully, and finding no argument in his eyes, continued.

"Your other hallucination told you to forgive her. This will most certainly accomplish nothing."

A breath escaped Jack's mouth that sounded like a hiss.

"I was not planning on doing that. In fact, that was the last thing on my 'back from the dead' list of things to do. You, however, seem to have a more expanded idea of what I should be doing. Please, elaborate."

The other man seemed to be staring intently at him, and Jack stared right back, almost challenging him.

"Kill her."

"Come again?"

The man chuckled.

"You heard me. You need to kill her. She upset the balance. Her decisions came from the most selfish place in her black soul, and she murdered you, which should be reason enough for the ruthless Captain of the Black Pearl. Let me count how many people are still alive that have crossed you. Oh, there are none. Funny, that."

The pirate growled.

"I am not a murderer...anymore."

Frustration filled the other man's voice when he spoke.

"Ah, back to attempting to battle the darkness within you. It is not going to go away Jack, no matter how hard you try to fight it. You very nearly embraced it, just before...certain events happened. Then you nearly accepted it again, when you killed Captain Barbossa. Yet, you just cannot bring yourself to let it fully consume you."

Abruptly standing, Jack ground out something that had a burden of his mind for a long time.

"I don't want to accept that I am becoming like him."

The cloaked man also stood up, and circled the table, coming to a stop in front of Jack.

"Your father."

Jack nodded.

The man sighed. "Yes, I understand that you wish to not share his traits, but you are missing something, Jack. Your father was evil. He only wished to bring about evil. The way he beat you down night after night could have only come from pure evil. You do not share that with him. Your soul is crafted to be able to make the decisions necessary to remove evil when you find it, where other mortals would not be able to. Without the darkness within you, you would not be the pirate that you are today. You would have never made it there. Every single life you have taken deserved it. Every single entity of evil that you have removed allowed the balance to continue. That kind of darkness is critical to keeping what little peace the world has left. Your ability to make impossible choices without a moment's hesitation is so very rare, Jack."

"I was never proud of any of the choices I made."

The man shook his head slightly.

"No one would be, until they are shown how those choices affected the people involved, directly or indirectly."

Jack glanced up, expression bordering on curiosity.

"I allowed myself to die by the hands of a mere girl. How does that not invalidate everything you just said?"

The man extended his hand to clasp Jack's shoulder.

"She was the one person who you were not going to be able to kill unless you had a very good reason. I daresay that she certainly gave you that reason. Every person like you has their Achille's Heel Jack."

Jack shook his hand off.

"Before you take me down memory lane, which is what I presume you are going to do, you are going to tell me who you really are, and you will start by taking that cloak off."

The man stepped back and bowed, then removed the cloak, which fell to form an inky puddle on the ground.

Two blood red eyes stared straight into Jack's black ones.

"I have many names and faces, but the one I prefer is Lucifer."


End file.
